The Old Town is by no means big, but if you plan a night out in Düsseldorf, there are more places to stay than you can ever visit. Just a few blocks away are 300 drinks, bars and nightclubs, to the point where the area is called “Längste Theke der Welt”, “The longest bar in the world”. Although there is no way to prove this, each bar is claimed to connect with the next, where you can go with our escort girls.
Brewpubs in the neighbourhood serve traditional Altbier, which we’ll discuss in more detail later. Also, spend some time exploring with a clear head during the day, checking out the sheltered houses and the many cultural facilities in the neighbourhood, such as the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, the Filmmuseum and the NRW Agency.
If Düsseldorf is a word of honour for a luxurious, state-of-the-art lifestyle, it’s because of Königsallee, a plush shopping boulevard on either side of a canal lined with planets. The locals usually contract the name with “Kö”, and the street moves one kilometre from north to south, each premium brand under the sun on the road. For most people, it is a chance to shop for windows, enjoy the rich ambience, and take pictures of the canal and its elegant bridges. But if you need something extraordinary, you are sure to find it at one of the many iconic stores. Chanel, Cartier, Tiffany & Co, Burberry, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Hugo Boss and Prada are just a selection.
How To Be Unhappy With A Man: Death On The Island
The cottage was lovely, with four floors with a roof terrace. That was good because then you didn’t have to go out. The island was bare; someone had cut it down, and the Romans must have done it again. The island was full of stones and prickly plants, surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea. Like everywhere else in the Mediterranean, the people here were too loud and slow. Usually, the inhabitants of this country are well dressed, but here they had adapted to the numerous tourists, and everyone wore printed t-shirts, shorts and flip flops.
I was always wearing my green silk kimono and nothing underneath, but that was for nothing because I couldn’t find a male here with whom I would have wanted to mate. I saw one a day before the return flight, but I was sitting in the car, so we didn’t cross paths; only our eyes did. So I had to stay here unhappily. I was unhappy because I had broken up with my lover before the trip. After all, he doesn’t love me.
Our last conversation occurred in the morning after a night in my house; he was already one flight down. That is how it goes:
I (standing in the doorway, taking heart, calling after him): When will we see each other again?
Me: Can I come to your place tonight?
Me: Why not?
Him: I have to work.
Working? On Sunday? What then?
Him: I have to write.
Me: Shall we see you next week? Wednesday, for example?
Me: When will you know if you can?
Him: Let’s see. Call Tuesday night.
He doesn’t pick up Tuesday night. Even after ten more calls.
I called him on Tuesday evening, and he didn’t pick up, and then I tried pretty often, actually the whole evening, out of anger. At some point, the voicemail started right away and then I texted him that I was his child and that he should come over here immediately and fuck me. He didn’t answer, and then I wrote to him that he didn’t love me, and that’s why I never wanted to see him again, and he didn’t answer, and then I didn’t write to him anymore, and after the performance, I swam to the airport in my tears and ended up on this island because I was taken there.
A married couple. After my arrival, he had to sleep in the living room. He had slept in my room before because he wasn’t allowed to sleep with his wife. After all, she couldn’t stand his snoring. To me, my lover’s snoring would be the most beautiful music in the world, but my lover doesn’t snore, not at all; I know that because when he’s sleeping, I lie awake and look at him and I can’t sleep when he’s lying next to me because I’m scared of snoring. He hears it and then doesn’t love me anymore; it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t love me anyway.
The mosquito was like my love for him. He and I try to kill her, but she keeps coming back
So I got the guest room under the roof and slept alone to snore. But I didn’t sleep because there was a mosquito in the room, and whenever I killed it, it would come back and buzzing around, and I would kill it again, but it kept coming back buzzing around my ears. The mosquito was like my love for him. He and I tried to smack her, but she kept coming back, so I didn’t sleep and snore; I just lay in the dark listening to the undead mosquito and thinking about him.
During the day, we went swimming in bays, and I put on my diving mask and looked at the many small grey fish. The grey fish were like him because they looked at me indifferently and swam away. I salted the seawater with my tears, and I hope they die because of it. I wanted to drown, but I kept breathing; I tried to burn in the sun, but I used the SPF 50 sunscreen because I had been to church that morning, and I was praying to the Blessed Virgin Mary that one morning he would suddenly wake up and realizes his undying love for me. I wanted to wait a little longer for that to happen. Also, I texted him again, asking if we could see each other when I got back. He didn’t answer, and I texted him: I thought you liked me.
The grey fish were like him because they looked at me indifferently and swam away. I salted the seawater with my tears, and I hope they die because of it.
In the afternoon, the Blessed Virgin Mary had heard my prayer because he had replied that he liked me and that he might be accessible on Saturday night, I should call back, so I’m fine again. In the evening, I walked around town, through narrow streets and to the river. All the palm trees were hacked off, you could only see the stumps, and under the stumps, there were benches made of iron; they were hot because of the sun.
I went to the stores downtown, and some earrings looked like ulcers, and I didn’t buy any. The couple and I had dinner at a restaurant, pizza with a thin crust of tomato sauce and cheese crust, and olive oil with rosé. Then I flew back home and met him, and he slept with me, and I said, ‘Do hurt me” when he pushed me, but I didn’t need to tell him that because that’s the only thing you don’t need to say to him specifically.
Insights of a unicorn: Three is one too many
Alternative relationship concepts and studied ways of dealing with jealousy are excellent in theory but often challenging to implement in practice and rarely so simply and clearly defined—nice illusion – in view. If you analyze a lot, you will find more potential for conflict. For a long time, I thought our sexual playmates had no emotional demands or expectations of my partner and me during the open relationship. Eventually, we formed a unit and only occasionally met up with others. Once or several times, ONS or affair.
Everyone knew everything from the outset and also during the event. Everyone had voluntarily decided to participate in our connection for a short time. Even if we rarely got to know each other’s affairs, we still knew when they were present in each other’s lives. Rationalizing thoughts prevents liberation. Now that I’ve been travelling solo and alone in Berlin for over a year, I often found myself in the role of the third party, the affair.
Suddenly I had no expectations to assert our claims to make. I show up in the couple’s life, have fun with them or meet one of them alone. The unicorn, as people now call this role so beautifully. Now I often found myself in the position of the third party, the affair. Suddenly I had no expectations to assert our claims to make. At least that’s what a beautiful artist pointed out to me when we first met. Dating apps and love forums have played with the term for a long time. Couples, preferably, are often looking for a “unicorn” here, a bisexual creature that only serves to serve a threesome fantasy. After all, he feels he is attracted to both sexes, has double sexual pleasure, and is horny!
When I stopped thinking and started feeling
I’ve always known why I don’t find the critters funny or can’t stand them, even if they keep popping up in the party context and on all flyers and are generally very popular. Inner dislike justifiably. I was overcome with crass feelings of emptiness and loneliness from then on. Always being the playmate is not enriching in the long term. In addition, it is always quite intense when at the end of the day, you realize that you were only a short-term enrichment for someone or for a romantic connection that is not your own. The only one in the constellation that would have been replaceable. One can aspire to it or fear it.
In addition, it is always quite intense when you realize that you were only a short-term enrichment for someone at the end of the day. The only one in the constellation that would have been replaceable. Of course, a purely sexual affair is not tied to emotional commitment beyond sex and here, too, at least one of the two, or both, if neither is taken, gets their emotional costs when it comes to security and love. Even if I’ve always described myself as the type of woman who separates sex and feelings, I still invest less in affairs with committed men, for example. Excitingly, however, sex with them is best – admittedly. So, it’s a vicious circle again in the end. But here, too: in theory, it could be so simple, but in the future, my feelings and actions are contradictory.
Lose your identity
We overthink because we remember who we are. Principles and rules have little place in relationships because relationship dynamics are situational. This applies to social interactions in general. None of us always react the same way in the same situation. Why else do we like to blame so much on circumstances? Why do we say things like “If only I knew”, “It would have happened a week earlier or two months later”. Admittedly, I don’t react so casually anymore when receiving requests for threesomes from couples.
In the meantime, I no longer react so casually when receiving requests for threesomes from couples. Somehow I’ve noticed that it also drains my energy every time. Somehow I’ve noticed that it drains a little bit of my energy every time, knowing that for me, it’s a pure adventure with the potential for conflict (yes, couples have broken up after we’ve spent a night together. Bad conscience deluxe!).
Apart from the fact that it sometimes feels like you’re just fulfilling the cliché of the promiscuous, lustful and easy-going bisexual playmate at this point and serving as a pure pleasure enslaved person. Okay, admit the enslaved person is a bit of a harsh word. It depends on the practice – everything has already been experienced—and being told. Three is one, too many times.
Often, not always.